


you want to name it what?

by kwritten



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Families of Choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4600098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/pseuds/kwritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He brings it back to her tent like she has any fucking clue what to do with a … </p><p>“Is it a dog or a cat?”</p><p>He’s got the thing’s face pressed up against his and she can’t really hear what he’s saying, but she assumes it’s something ridiculous like <i>both</i> or <i>what does it matter?</i>, when he lets go he’s smiling – that smile that wrinkles up his whole face and makes him look five years old. </p><p>He is five years old. </p>
            </blockquote>





	you want to name it what?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



He brings it back to her tent like she has any fucking clue what to do with a … 

“Is it a dog or a cat?”

He’s got the thing’s face pressed up against his and she can’t really hear what he’s saying, but she assumes it’s something ridiculous like _both_ or _what does it matter?_ , when he lets go he’s smiling – that smile that wrinkles up his whole face and makes him look five years old. 

He is five years old. 

“Well _you_ are responsible for feeding it and taking it for walks in the middle of the night.”

“And leash-training it,” Octavia pipes in from across the fire at the entrance to her tent. “I don’t want that thing waking me up in the morning or going through my stuff.”

He appears mildly affronted at the idea that he _wouldn’t_ automatically take care of his ‘pet’ on his own. Raven rolls her eyes and shuffles off to fill up their water bucket from the community well in the center of camp. It was quite a ways off, and there was a shooting pain that traveled up her leg to the base of her neck with every step, and it was _his_ turn to get the water. 

“He probably didn’t even consider giving it a bath before bringing it into the tent,” she grumbles as she trudges back with a full bucket in each hand. 

Monty lopes over to her, but doesn’t try to take a bucket off her hands even though he can see her leg is dragging a little even from a few yards away. “What are you doing? I thought you were going straight to bed after…”

It had been a long day. She may or may not have accidentally caused a small (very small) (bigger than you’d think) explosion and gotten chewed out by about three adults that couldn’t pass on the fact that yes, that lecture had already been given. The one from Abby stung the most and that’s probably why she started shouting back. She’d probably wake up to another set of lectures and a discussion about her temper. Fuck them, to be honest. 

“Bellamy brought home… something,” she shifted the buckets in her hand and stopped walking for a moment. He still didn’t offer to help carry them, even though she could tell he wanted to. (They may have had that argument before, and it may or may not have ended with him sulking in his tent and a well-meaning but seriously out of her depth Clarke trying to patch things up only to make it all worse.) She was grateful that he’d given her the chance to stop and talk, catch her breath, lean a little bit heavier on her good leg, even if she’d never say so. 

Monty smiled and ducked his head, like he was still unsure whether or not smiling was allowed, “I heard. I’m just glad it didn’t have two heads or a scorpion tail. Seems pretty harmless.”

Raven frowned, “He probably still would have brought it home.”

“Probably.” Someone called out to Monty from behind her and he gave her a quick, one-armed hug before loping off towards them.

They had set up three tents on the outer edge of the camp, close to the river, but well-defended by trees all around. Raven, Bellamy, and Octavia near to each other, with a fire between them, logs encircling it to sit on in the twilight. Three tents, which made it appear as though there was some sort of privacy over on this end of the camp, as if the Blakes had any sense of personal space at all. Within a week, most of Bellamy’s clothes were in Raven’s tent and Octavia was asleep on Raven’s bedroll as often as Raven was. When Octavia was around. She and Lincoln liked to disappear into the dark woods for days at a time, coming home with fresh scars and brittle smiles. By the time she reached their collection of tents, Bellamy had fallen asleep by the fire, his fluffy little creature sleeping on his chest. 

Raven sighed and plucked the thing out of Bellamy’s arms and dumped it unceremoniously into one of the buckets. It lapped happily at the water and splashed her quite a bit. She wasn’t amused, but at least it didn’t growl or try to eat her. Animals liking water meant that they were easy to clean. 

It probably also meant that the damn thing would throw itself into the river whenever possible and probably drown if they weren’t careful. She made a mental note to keep an eye on it near running water. 

She dried it off as best she could, trying to avoid a slobbery tongue that seemed determined to cover her face at every opportunity, and then carried it from tent to tent looking for a proper collar and leash. The damn thing was sure to run off in the middle of the night and get eaten by something with claws. There was a thin bit of rope over in a pile of Lincoln’s hunting gear that she stole. He’d probably be okay with it. She shrugged as she tied it around the black and brown fluffy thing’s neck, hell if he was pissed than Bellamy could deal with it. 

She plopped the thing down on Bellamy’s chest and sighed. 

She still had to clean herself and figure out something to eat. It had been a long day. 

Bellamy opened one eye as he wrapped his arms around the thing on his chest, “I think I’m going to name it Spot.”

She kicked him with her heavy boot, “You could have bathed it instead of lying there naming the damn thing.” She took off her jacket and threw it on the ground. It wasn’t like it could get much more dirty anyway. She threw her shirt on top of that and then toed off her boots and started to undo her pants. 

“Anyone could walk by,” Bellamy protested, eyes wide. 

“Fuck ‘em.” She shimmied out of her pants, grimacing a little at the twinge in her leg, shooting him a glare when he gave her that patented look of concern. “Anyway,” she continued, her hands on her hips, “everyone is listening to some speech and Octavia took Lincoln out to that cave they found last week.” She picked up the bucket of clean water and dumped it over her head. It was probably the warmest night that they’d had in a while, but the air still caused goosebumps to raise on her arms and legs. She sighed and shivered, “Damn that felt good.”

Bellamy’s eyes were dark and lazy, like he was about to drift off again. (He wasn’t.) “We should go down to the river tomorrow afternoon.” His voice was husky. She nearly rolled her eyes at him, but she had stopped caring about his complete lack of self-awareness whenever she stripped in front of him. After wandering around naked in the same tent for months, you’d think the boy would calm down. He didn’t. (She couldn’t tell if she respected that about him or if she’d miss that look in his eye when it inevitably faded.)

“That Spot thing will drown, if you don’t keep an eye on it. Anyway, we can’t just leave in the middle of the day.”

“I arranged for us to have the afternoon off, got it cleared through Abby on my way into camp tonight,” he’s petting the Spot-thing and grinning at it. The damn thing starts licking his face and Raven is torn between hating the sight and wishing there was a way to capture the image forever. People used to do that, in the old days, hold on to images and keep them close forever. 

She’s getting sentimental. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she growls, wondering how the hell he’d heard about her (very small) explosion so quickly. 

“I have to take a team out tomorrow night, will be gone for a few days. Octavia and Clarke are going to be gone, too.” He looks up at her and something twists in her stomach. She’ll be alone again. She hasn’t had to be alone too much since they set up their corner. Someone is usually here, not to keep an eye on her exactly, mostly just so she has someone to yell at when the day is done, or so Octavia likes to tease her. 

(Almost like a real family.)

“An afternoon at the river sounds fine,” her voice is hard but he still smiles up at her anyway. 

Idiot. 

“Spot will be here with you though,” he says as she turns back to the tent. 

“Spot will _what_?!”


End file.
